


Tiny Gestures

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce is trying, Emotional Constipation, M/M, Minor Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce needs to apologize. He just isn't sure how to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiny Gestures

Hearing a door bell go off at an ungodly hour was never the way Jason Todd, infamous Red Hood, liked to be woken up. He growled and cursed quite a large number of people. He snagged his watch and glared at it. It told him, rather innocently, that it was noon. Still ungodly. Another growl and he slammed the watch back to the floor.

It wasn’t until the door bell rang for the third time that Jason even bothered to haul himself off of the couch. He shoved a hand through his hair and padded through the run down apartment to his door. He was very sure that his door bell hadn’t even worked when it was brand new. Not that he could picture this apartment being anything close to ‘new’.

“Who is it?” He snapped through the thin wood of the door.

If he’d been more awake, he would’ve just checked the bank of screens lining his bedroom wall. But then, if he’d been more awake, he’d be far more concerned about why he’d woken up on the couch instead of his bed. As it was, he wasn’t all that awake and, therefore, didn’t think any of those things.

“Bruce,” the hateful door-bell ringer said from the other side.

Jason paused, blinking stupidly. That’s when he remember what happened last night. He groaned and rubbed his stomach. Still sore.

“What do you want?”

There was a pause and Jason could see Bruce shifting his weight once. “I wished to apologize.”

Well that wasn’t what he was expecting when he was woken at a disgustingly early time. Jason hesitated a second before he started to undo all the locks. Finally, he pulled the door open and stepped aside.

“Come in,” he said, jerking his head toward the couch he’d just woken up on.

Bruce, clearly, did not look like he wanted to go inside. As strange as his night life was, he did have a bit of dignity and this apartment was, well, the exact opposite of that. Still, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His eyebrow quirked up and he glanced around the apartment.

Jason knew that look, it did nothing to make him any happier. “Don’t.”

“What?” Bruce asked as innocently as a six foot, vigilante possibly could.

“I know that look. Don’t you dare be thinking any of that shit.”

Bruce’s eyebrow lowered and that was as close to a victory as Jason was going to get. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching Bruce closely. The man was moving about the space like he didn’t want to touch anything. Which he probably didn’t.

“Well?” Jason prompted when the silence had progressed to the level of uncomfortable.

“Would you like to go to that diner on 5th?” Bruce asked.

Jason stared, not expecting that. Then again, he rarely expected anything Bruce did. It always came as a surprise and he, usually, only had seconds before he could get himself back on balance. This was one of those times. “What?” He asked. Okay, so he hadn’t been that successful at rebalancing.

“The diner on 5th. They’re selling those Neapolitan Smoothies,” Bruce explained. He paused a second before adding, “you like those, right?”

Jason nodded, numbly. “Yeah, I like those.” He was a little surprised Bruce remembered. “What does that have to do with an apology?”

Bruce’s gaze was caught by a pile of case packets Jason had scattered over his poor excuse for a coffee table. He leaned down to lift the top file. “Go get dressed, I’m taking you out.”

Something in the back of his mind told him to argue. But a bigger, more sane part, told him not to. Diner meant food and his fridge had been empty for five days. Arguing wasn’t going to fill his stomach. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t waste time. Anything to set Bruce on edge. Without a word, he disappeared into his bedroom.

It took him a full hour to shower and dress. When he got back out to the living room, Bruce was hovering dangerously close to the window, his expression pinched.

Jason suppressed a smirk. “Well, I’m ready.”

Bruce looked beyond relieved and didn’t hesitate to grasp Jason’s shoulder to steer him out of the dingy apartment building.

Apparently ‘taking him out’ just wasn’t in the plans. When they’d gotten down to Bruce’s car, they both noticed that it was conspicuously absent. Not seconds later two teenage boys appeared trying to steal their wallets from them. Not surprisingly one of them had a gun. No one stole anything in Gotham if they couldn’t back it up with some kind of weapon.

Jason growled, actually made a noise that the closest dog would be proud to make. The sound only cut off when he felt Bruce’s hand drop onto his shoulder, again. He glanced at the other man.

Bruce had lifted a hand and was smiling good naturedly. Only play-boy billionaires made that kind of smile. He used his other hand to pull out his wallet.

“Don’t worry, fella’s, I’ll give you some cash.”

Jason didn’t think it was physically possible to hate a speech choice. But he’d be damned if he wasn’t angry with Bruce’s words. He’d always had a serious problem with the Play Boy act. Maybe it’s because he knew just how fake it was.

One of the teenagers lurched forward to snatch the money out of Bruce’s hands. Without a second look back they shot out of the apartment complex.

“Great. Now how are you going to pay for food?”

To his surprise, Bruce chuckled. As quiet as it was, it still existed. “I have a card, Jason,” he reminded the former sidekick.

Jason’s glower only deepened. For the entire walk to the diner, he grumbled about rich people and having way more money that they even knew what to do with. If he paused to look at Bruce, he’d recognize an all too familiar expression of amusement. The sort of face Bruce got when he was content with where he was. As it was, Jason was too annoyed with the elite classes of society.

“Jason, we’re here,” Bruce stated, yanking Jason out of his thoughts and holding the diner door open.

Jason glanced up at the sign greeting them. “Dixie’s Diner? Couldn’t get anymore fifties,” he muttered and was very quickly proven wrong.

Stepping inside was like jumping back in time. No, not jumping, that suggested consent. It was like being shoved through a brick wall and kicked down a stair well into an alternate time line, where the 1950’s were still going and the nuclear war was a massive threat. It made Jason’s eyes go impossibly wide.

A tiny woman in a mint green uniform and white apron bounced over to them. Even her short hair was styled to the prim bob of the Cold War era. She smiled, full lips painted red and blue eyes bright.

“Hello there. Booth or bar?” She asked, candy sweet enough to make Jason’s teeth hurt.

“Booth please,” Bruce answered.

The sprite of a woman guided them back to a booth with sparkling vinyl seats and a cheesy napkin stand. Jason slid into the booth, fulling expecting Bruce to take the other side. Instead, the man dropped down right next to him. Before he could demand an explanation a plastic menu was shoved into his hands.

“Just holler when you’re ready,” the waitress, whose name tag declared her as 'Alice’ said and scurried off.

Jason stared after her.

“It’s rude to stare,” Bruce commented.

Jason’s gaze snapped to his menu. The pair sat in silence for a long time. Not even when Alice came with their waters and took their order did conversation strike up. Normally Jason was okay with silence but being stuck this close to Bruce, with their bodies almost pressed seamlessly side by side, he was anything but okay. His irritation was growing by the second and something needed to be said, he just couldn’t think of what.

Right when he was seriously considering throwing the table, Bruce’s hand dropped onto his thigh. It was enough to make him jump. His gaze snapped up to the man’s face.

“I’m sorry for last night,” he said quietly. “Hitting you was not part of the plan.”

Unconsciously, Jason’s hand moved to his stomach. He shrugged. “It’s okay. I did, sort of, try to shoot Tim.”

Bruce nodded, his expression stern. “You did. Still it was not to end that way.”

A quiet sigh escaped Jason. “I’ve noticed most things don’t end up the way they’re supposed to. Like your car being stolen for one thing.”

After that, perhaps because of that, the new length of silence was just fine with Jason. Their food arrived and, despite Alice’s chatter, it was rather enjoyable. They ate at their own pace and only exchanged a few random words. For the first time in a long time, Jason was very content to just sit and be still. That little, angry, voice in the back of his mind grumpily added that he could only ever do this with Bruce. He pushed it away and greedily slurped up his smoothie.

By the end of it Jason was very glad someone had decided to ring his door bell at a god forsaken hour.


End file.
